


How Gravity Was Invented

by orphan_account



Category: Naruto
Genre: Father-Daughter Relationship, First Meetings, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 09:38:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3891502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Your Chidori could use some refinement,” are the first words her father ever says to her.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah? Give me a few minutes and I'll refine it <em>on your face</em>, asshole.”</p>
<p>By Uchiha-Haruno standards, they are off to a tentatively promising start.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How Gravity Was Invented

She's on her way home after successfully completing her fourth A-rank solo when she runs into a missing nin. The fight starts out fast and furious, then eventually dwindles into a drawn-out battle of wits lasting well over half an hour. The conclusion they reach doesn't satisfy anyone; they basically both just run out of steam, and the missing nin takes off as fast as he still can, running the opposite direction from Konoha.  
  
Tired and frustrated, she's rummaging around in her pack for some much-needed water when she's hit by extremely vivid dehydration or poison induced hallucinations, or the most kickass genjutsu she's ever been on the receiving end of. It has to be one of those, anyway, because that is very clearly the infamous Uchiha Sasuke walking out of the woods at a sedate pace, headed straight for her.  
  
Sarada tries a Kai but, yeah, no such luck.  
  
She kind of hopes she's been poisoned somewhere along the way.  
  
“Your Chidori could use some refinement,” are the first words her father ever says to her.  
  
“Oh yeah?” Sarada yells, all thoughts of this encounter only happening in her mind forgotten. “Give me a few minutes and I'll refine it _on your face_ , asshole.”  
  
By Uchiha-Haruno standards, they are off to a tentatively promising start.

 

* * *

  
  
“Let me get this straight. _Kakashi-san_ told you where to find me,” Sarada says skeptically.  
  
“Apparently, and I quote, he's 'too old to deal with teenage Uchiha crap'.”  
  
“I can't believe that old pervert. _No wonder_ he wanted me to take this stupid mission.”  
  
“Yes, well, that's Kakashi for you.”  
  
Sarada starts nodding before realizing who, exactly, she's agreeing with.  
  
“So, what, he asked you to train me and you came crawling out of the hole you've been hiding in for the past _sixteen years_?”  
  
Living up to every story she's ever been told of her father's eloquence, Uchiha Sasuke shrugs.  
  
“This is great. Just _great_. And what exactly do you find so amusing about this situation?”  
  
Her father blinks, and if anything his faint smile only grows more pronounced.  
  
“It's just that you are exactly how I imagined Sakura's daughter to be.”  
  
“ _Sakura's daughter_?” Sarada sputters.  
  
“Well, I hardly expected you to resemble me in anything but appearance, considering the fact that you were two months old the last time we met,” her father explains reasonably.  
  
Suddenly, Naruto-san's many and numerous misty-eyed declarations of wanting to punch his best friend in the face as soon as he gets back to the village are starting to make a whole world of sense.  
  
“You don't _have to_ train with me if you don't want to,” he says. “Of course, I'm literally your only chance if you do want to learn our techniques, so consider this opportunity carefully. Don't just say no because you hate my guts.”  
  
“I never said I hated you,” Sarada mumbles, deflating in the face of his composure.  
  
“It's fine if you do,” her father says calmly. “I've yet to do a single thing to deserve your love or respect. But with Kakashi out of the picture, I'm clearly the most qualified person to teach you. You shouldn't let your pride or resentment hold you back from becoming the best kunoichi you can be.”  
  
As much as she hates to admit it, he has a point.  
  
“Yeah, fine, let's do this thing. Um, what do I call you?”  
  
“Whatever you're comfortable with.”  
  
She's never called him anything but _Dad_ in the safety of her own thoughts.  
  
“Sasuke-san?”  
  
“That's fine. Sarada.”  
  
She has no idea why hearing her name in his voice makes her heart skip a beat, but she doesn't like the feeling one bit.

 

* * *

  
  
“Lesson number one: since you and I are the only ones left of our clan, and since the Uchiha have never been known for our subtlety, pretty much everyone you're likely to encounter in the circles we move in will know exactly who you are and what you're capable of.”  
  
_Yeah, no shit, Dad._  
  
“They will do everything in their power to stop you from using the Sharingan, meaning you need to have something else up your sleeve at all times.”  
  
“I've got plenty of taijutsu up my sleeve, don't you worry.”  
  
“Good. Lesson number two: I wasn't kidding about your Chidori, it's a goddamn mess.”  
  
“I've been using it for over two years,” Sarada says, bristling. “There's nothing wrong with my execution.”  
  
“ _Two years_? And Kakashi hasn't said anything about the insane amount of chakra you put into it?”  
  
“Mom checks my hands regularly, I haven't blown any pathways in ages.”  
  
“It's still a pointless waste,” her father says, frowning. “You could half your chakra input and an attack like that, if well-timed, would still kill most men. It would certainly drop anyone on the spot.”  
  
“I thought you were going to teach me new stuff, not nitpick the techniques I already use.”  
  
“And I thought you were going to let me teach you, not whine about constructive criticism like some snotty Academy brat,” he fires back smoothly.  
  
Retired Hokage, revered war hero and beloved friend of the family or not, that old rat bastard Kakashi is _so_ dead for sending her into this shitstorm without so much as a heads up.  
  
“You're obviously exhausted,” her father goes on. “You're not expected back for a week. We're camping here for the night, unless you've got a better location in mind.”  
  
Sarada shrugs. “I was planning to stop here anyway.”  
  
“All right. Start the fire, I'll rustle up our dinner.”

 

* * *

  
  
Somehow, her father is simultaneously exactly like and not at all how she's always imagined him. She supposes she can't really fault anyone for this; Uchiha Sasuke is a difficult man to describe even now that she's sitting across a campfire from him with nothing better to do but scrutinize him.  
  
The most glaring difference between the stories and the real thing is that she was always told her dad was, if nothing else, _a looker_. Her Aunt Ino is far from a fan, yet Sarada once heard her utter the horrifying—and very, _very_ drunk—words; _but what a fine piece of ass he was_. Even more horrifyingly, her mom just gave her aunt this rueful little smile and replied; _at least we still agree on that_.  
  
If Sarada had to pick a good-looking man in Konohagakure, she'd go with the Hokage, no question. Okay, she _obviously_ wouldn't tell anyone that, not even under torture or threat of death, but the point is, she used to have something of a crush on Naruto-san back in the day when she was much younger and more foolish. She also knows quite a few women—civilians and kunoichi alike—who find him attractive, and not only because he's the Hokage. She doubts she'll ever be able to wrap her mind around the idea of him having a childhood crush on her mother, and Mom never even considering giving him a chance.  
  
The guy sitting across from her is not someone she'd ever describe as a 'looker', even if he didn't happen to be her wayward dad. If she wants to be honest—and why wouldn't she be—he just kind of looks like a hobo who hasn't been on the business end of a brush in months, maybe years. Even more strikingly, he looks _old_ in a way few of the adults his age do back home. The premature worry lines carved into his stern face make him look a good decade older than her mom or Naruto-san, and it's not like those two lead what could be described as relaxed lives by anyone's standards. But she supposes it's actually quite amazing he's still alive at all after so many years wandering on his own, considering there are thousands of people still out there who would be glad to see his head on a pike.  
  
She can, of course, see the similarities between the two of them, but she doesn't think they go beyond what she's come to think of as the Uchiha Basics: black hair, slim build, a ghastly pale complexion. She can't see herself in his features at all; her face is all Mom from her pointy chin up to her giant forehead.  
  
Mostly, the people back home seem to remember her father's explosive, all-encompassing rage, and Sarada can't say she blames them, all things considered. But that's nowhere to be seen so far. If anything, he's one of the chillest shinobi she's ever met; soft-spoken and serious when he talks at all, bitingly sarcastic in his comebacks in a way not dissimilar to her own.  
  
She's never actually attempted to compile a list of all the things she wanted to ask him, but she suspects if she did so, it would have filled entire notebooks. Now that she's unexpectedly been given the chance to ask, she's not sure where to start.  
  
“Rest assured, I'm not affiliated with any terrorist organizations at the moment,” he says suddenly, dry as the desert.  
  
Sarada blinks.  
  
“That's, um, good to know.”  
  
It's startling to realize that the possibility hasn't even occurred to her.  
  
Her father _tchs_.  
  
“But you don't, in fact, _know_ that,” he points out. “Lesson number three: you should have demanded solid proof of my identity the moment I approached you. It's not the most well-guarded secret in the world that the Uchiha heiress doesn't actually know her father. Not only does every shinobi worth their money know who you are, but there are a lot of people out there who'd easily pay tens of millions for your eyes alone.”  
  
_Shit_ , she can't believe she didn't even think of that.  
  
“Here,” he says, pulling a letter from his pack and handing it over to her. The seal on it, broken as it is, is still clearly identifiable as the Hokage's.  
  
“Naturally, your mother has been informed of your whereabouts.”  
  
“Wait, _Mom_ knows you're practically in our backyard?”  
  
“I wouldn't be surprised if this whole thing was her idea in the first place,” he says, shaking his head ruefully. “Once a meddling bitch, always a meddling bitch.”

The fire flickers, and the next time he speaks, he's right behind her and there is a flash of steel, a cold blade settling across her jugular, pressing down hard enough to draw blood. “I suppose you can't be faulted for making the idiotic mistake of trusting me, it must be a genetic defect.”  
  
She reaches for her thigh holster but she isn't fast enough, no one is fast enough to wriggle out of this trap, _how_ could she be so fucking stupid, _of course_ this isn't her father, she doesn't know her father because he doesn't _care_ to get to know her, she's nothing more than some kind of court-mandated host for the Sharingan which is much too powerful a weapon to lose simply because the great Uchiha Sasuke doesn't want kids, fucking _stupid_ and now she's gonna be fucking _dead_ —  
  
The fire flickers once more, and her father is sitting across from her again—or _still_.  
  
“Lesson number four: there's nothing more pathetic than a genjutsu user who can't recognize a genjutsu. You were under for over five minutes.”  
  
If she weren't so goddamn _angry_ , she would be impressed with his skill. Any idiot can slap an illusion together, but it takes considerable talent and finesse to slip one on someone like this mid-conversation and then pull them out of it again without a hitch.  
  
“Call my mother a bitch again, for _any_ reason at all, and I'll seriously refine my Chidori on your face.”  
  
“Oh?” he enquires, looking more curious than anything. “Do you think you could pull that off against me? I _just_ saw you miss with it and waste a huge amount of chakra you really couldn't afford to waste in the process.”  
  
“ _That's_... I'm just coming off a _month-long_ mission,” she sputters indignantly. “Don't think you know me just because you caught, what, _ten minutes_ of me in action? I usually manage just fine.”  
  
“I hate to break this to you, but your life is only going to get busier once your career really takes off. _Usually_ , you'll be pulling back-to-back A-ranks where you'll be required to fight on little to no sleep. Relying on what you can do when you're at your best and most well-rested is the fastest way to get yourself killed in this business. But you should get some rest now, I'll take first watch.”  
  
“Fine,” she snaps, dragging her sleeping bag a bit farther away from the fire and him. “Night, I guess.”  
  
“By the way, you should have asked to see that letter outside the genjutsu.”  
  
Patricide is starting to seem more and more appealing. After all, she's been told it's a whole _thing_ in their family.

 

* * *

  
  
“Again. Unless you need a breather?”  
  
She glares at him, squinting through the sweat running down her face.  
  
“I'm fine.”  
  
She's _so_ not fine, and he knows it, too. She's rapidly running out of steam, which is stupid; all he asked her to do was ten tiny little Chidori attacks in a row, leaving her to decide how much chakra to use to get the number right and not drop dead on the spot.  
  
“No, you're not,” he says, shaking his head. “And you know that I can see that so what exactly are you trying to accomplish by lying? Sit down and have some water before you fall over.”  
  
He doesn't sound angry or disappointed, just calm and reasonable, and somehow that's pissing her off way more than the alternative would have.  
  
“Do you even _care_?”  
  
“Excuse me?”  
  
“I mean, are you _at all_ personally invested in anything that has to do with me, or are you just doing this as a favor to— I don't even know, Kakashi? Mom? The Hokage?” She just sat down but now she's on her feet again, getting all up in his stupid, impassive face. “What the _hell_ am I to you, anyway? Were you _ordered_ to have an heir? Was it a condition when Kakashi pardoned you or what?”  
  
“On paper? No, never,” he says. “But it was one of those things that went without saying. Besides, your mother wanted to have a child young and she asked me. It was the most logical and convenient arrangement for all parties involved.”  
  
“ _Logical_? _Convenient_?” Sarada shrieks. “Where are you even from, _planet Vulcan_?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“And _of course_ it's the pop culture reference you'd get hung up on! _Why_ am I even surprised?”  
  
She flops down in the grass again and takes off her glasses to scrub at her eyes furiously. She's not crying, not _quite_ , and she absolutely refuses to do that in front of him of all people. Funny how she thought she could do this and not have an emotional breakdown right on day two. She might be an Uchiha, but she's also a Haruno raised single-handedly by the famously temperamental Haruno Sakura herself. It doesn't matter how much she resembles her ancestors on the other side of the family, Sarada has always been like her mother in attitude. Laughter and tears come easily to them; theirs has always been an awfully loud household of two.  
  
“What do you think is the single most destructive force in this world?” her father asks, sitting down next to her.  
  
“ _Duh_ , Nine-Tails?”  
  
“Emotion without reason, as I've come to learn the hard way. I'm sure that at some point, your mother must have said something incredibly sentimental about how I left you only because I love you.”  
  
Sarada snorts. “Yeah, I've been listening to that since I was like, four. And I suppose you're gonna tell me now that it's true and it was _all_ for my own good.”  
  
“I don't have much experience with kids, but that probably wouldn't work on anyone above age six, would it?” he says sardonically. “And yet it's not untrue. I assume you've got a pretty good idea of what our family was like.”  
  
“I know more than I ever wanted to, thanks.”  
  
“You know the things they did, but do you know their _reasons_?”  
  
“Something about our abilities making us crazier the more powerful we get?”  
  
“Our abilities are closely tied to our emotional and mental state, true. But what I'm getting at here is that Madara and Obito _loved_ their village, in the most profound sense of the word. I also have no doubt, at this point in my life, that my own parents loved me and my brother very much and raised us accordingly. Of course this doesn't mean they were good parents, or good shinobi, or even good human beings in general. The complete truth of the matter is, I left you with Sakura because she's a good kunoichi and a good person, and I knew she would make a more than adequate parent. The same couldn't be said for me.”  
  
“But how could you possibly _know_ that?” Sarada bursts out. “You didn't even _try_ to be my dad, you just took off right after I was born.”  
  
He snorts, shaking his head with that rueful little smile that seems to pass for honest amusement on him.  
  
“I've tried to _kill_ your mother, Sarada. She ever tell you that? I really, truly, honestly have _tried_. I've also tried to kill my best friend and my sensei. You're special in that you are the only living person I love whom I've never attempted to kill. Kakashi pardoned me not because I deserved it or because it was a smart political move, but simply because love and guilt are powerful emotions all on their own, let alone simultaneously. Those three couldn't bring themselves to kill me and they would have never allowed anyone else to do it, but you tell me how I could have _possibly_ stayed after all I've done. But if it's any consolation to you; I _did_ want you, very much. The day you were born was by far the happiest day of my life, and I was sorely tempted to stick around and watch you grow.”  
  
“That... yeah.” Sarada sniffles, discreetly wiping her nose. “I still think you're an asshole, but that's good to know. Thanks for telling me, Dad.”  
  
He just nods, and they sit there for a while side by side, their shoulders almost touching.  
  
“Is that a three-headed bird?” Sarada asks eventually.  
  
“Hm.”  
  
“This is another genjutsu, isn't it?”  
  
Her dad smirks.  
  
“I could have killed you a dozen times already.”  
  
“ _Goddammit._ ”


End file.
